


Serve the King

by 8bitcyborg



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Sexually Frustrated Hanzo, Suggestive Themes, Tags will be updated, Talon!Hanzo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-21 01:14:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11933256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8bitcyborg/pseuds/8bitcyborg
Summary: «Come at the King, you better not miss. Serve the King, you’ll be greatly rewarded.Talon has been trying to get Hanzo Shimada to join their organization forever, but one after another they have failed. It is not until Akande Ogundimu, also known as Doomfist: The Successor returns, that they finally have a chance to get the coveted archer over on their side.»





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Doomfist's voice makes me sweaty~

It is the exact type of error that gets you killed. It puts a bullet in your head, slits your throat, or even worse; whisks you away to sessions of torture, forcing you to spill all your secrets. Hanzo had learned how to avoid making errors like this a long time ago. Being the heir to a criminal empire had left no room for being sloppy. But the hand currently resting heavily on his bare shoulder is a testament to how sorely he has miscalculated. He has let an enemy sneak up on him, and if he dares move even a muscle, to nock an arrow on his bow, he is done for. He won’t have nearly enough time. He does have a shiv tucked away in a hidden pocket in his hakama, his fingers mere centimetres from touching it. But considering who he is up against, he shouldn’t take any chances.

“Hanzo.” says the silky smooth voice. Hanzo’s jawline is rigid, his dragons are itching underneath his skin, his palms are getting sweaty and his adrenaline is rapidly spiking.

“What do you want?” he grits out between clenched teeth, keeping his voice steady and cold. Never show an enemy your fear. He isn’t prepared for the hearty laugh he gets in response and his heart hammers hard in his chest as he manages to quell his need to jump in surprise.

“They told me you would be a _‘piece of work’_. Please, turn around.” the offending voice commands in a firm but friendly tone. Hanzo swallows but does not comply, his fingers brushes lightly against his pocket. He does jump in surprise when the man behind him leans in to speak directly into his ear.

“I know about the blade you keep hidden in your clothes. Do not force my hand, it would be a shame having to hurt you.”

If he were to die here, at least he would do so facing his enemy. Being backstabbed, or _back-punched_ as it were, would yield no honor whatsoever. He slowly turns around, making sure to keep his hand away from his pocket.  
Standing face to face- or face to chest in this case- with Doomfist was as frightening as one could have imagined.  
The man was tall, far taller than most, and built like an ox. Hanzo is pretty sure that even without his mechanical arm, the man could probably still settle a fight with only one punch. No pictures or video footage could do his weapon justice. The arm is _massive_. An intricate piece of technology, wires and gold plating, protruding spikes, the hum of working machinery and gears grinding. He sucks in a breath.

“A marvel isn’t it?” Doomfist says, flexing his weaponized arm. Hanzo thinks he could _probably_ dodge at least one punch since he’s now facing the enemy rather than having his back exposed.

“I implore you to relax, Mr. Shimada.” Doomfist says reassuringly when Hanzo doesn’t reply to his query. “I merely wish to extend to you an offer.”

“An offer?” Hanzo replies before he can think it through. As if Talon could offer up anything to him on the path of redemption. The French sniper had already placed her gambit; _‘Talon could restore your family’s empire.’_

But at what cost?

The dancing Mexican animation he found one day on his phone along with a message; _‘j01|\| T@|_0|\| |_| n00b t][-][e b055|V|@|\| \/\/@|\|t5 |_|’_ wasn’t hard to pin on the right person either.  
That, and the taunting _‘You can do better than this.’_ coming from the black smog circling him during a scouting mission. Talon had it out for him, for reasons that quite frankly was beyond him.

“You have a brilliant strategic mind, you are unrivaled with your bow, not only one but two dragon spirits resides within you. Talon holds you in very high regard.” Doomfist says, admiration present in his voice. Hanzo lets out a soft snort.

“I do not follow.” he answers curtly, mentally feeling for the weight of the knife in his pocket. Doomfist laughs again, a laugh full of mirth and amusement.

“What I am saying is; Hanzo, you should consider joining us. I think we’d see eye to eye.” Doomfist throws back at him, smartly interpreting his sentence differently from what he had actually meant.

“I would have little to gain from such an arrangement. No, I will find my own path.” he huffs in response.

Doomfist is silent in the wake of his answer. He looks him over slowly, a grin forming yet again on his lips.

“Will you now?” he says silkily, after what feels like an excruciating eternity.

“You see, if you come at the King, you better not miss-” he leans in and paralyzation settles in Hanzo’s very bones, his pulse pounding in his ears. That same hand as before is now settled on his waist, and hot breath is against his ear.

“-however, those who follow the King, will be _greatly_ rewarded.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath, his mouth is so dry, Doomfist’s hand scorching hot just above his hip bone. He grits his teeth together and clenches his fists. The nerve, the _nerve_ of this man!

“Speak.” is all he manages to get out from between his teeth. Doomfist chuckles.

“You see, to rule an empire…”

It probably only takes two to three minutes for Doomfist to speak his proposition, but it feels as if he’s been standing there listening to the man’s firm and honeyed voice for hours. The hand finally leaves his waist and Doomfist stands back grinning.

“Do take a little time to mull it over. I will be back for your answer a bit later.” he says with an air of confident finality, before retreating back into the shadows of the forest where he presumably came from.  
Hanzo falls to his knees and finally dares breathe again. His hands digs into the grass beneath him as sweat drips from his forehead. He’s had brushes with death before, but never so intense and nerve-wracking as the one with The Successor.  
He’s just managed to calm his racing heart somewhat before embarrassment and mortification settles in the pit of his stomach as he notices how _hard_ the encounter has made him. He makes a noise in his throat as he desperately chalks it up to his imposed celibacy, a bodily fluke, an outer power mocking him and trying to stray him off his chosen path.  
He scurries around to gather up his things from his campsite before heading off into the night, in the opposite direction of Talon’s King, desperately trying to block out the traitorously sweet words still lingering in his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Please consider leaving kudos/comments if you enjoyed my writing<3
> 
> You can find me at http://8-bitcyborg.tumblr.com/ as well!


	2. Chapter 2

The philosophy behind radical thoughts and ideas is that they need time to mature and be given a chance to resonate within the individuals they are presented to. Akande knows this, Akande embraces this. He hadn’t expected Hanzo Shimada to take him up on his proposal immediately, no, he _expected_ the man to fight it, go against it with every fibre of his being.  
Hanzo Shimada was a proud individual, raised to be a fighter, a businessman, and to never serve or take a step down the ladder. Most of all, the archer was a man that held honor above all else.  
Akande sweeps his fingers through the coals of the abandoned campfire. They’re lukewarm. Hanzo has been here recently. Managing to narrowly slip between his fingers yet again. Akande grins as he finds himself greatly admiring the man’s persistence. He makes for a very interesting hunt. Sombra manifests from the shadows in front of him, a hand cocked on her hip.

“No sightings in the immediate perimeter.” she informs him, tucking her translocator back into her pocket.

“I see.” Akande responds curtly. “Your take on which direction he might have headed?”

Sombra puts a finger to her chin, looking thoughtful, or at least trying to pretend she is thinking it through.

“West. He is packing light, he would need to do a restock in the city there.”

“West it is then.” Akande says, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

* * *

Done drying himself from a shower and getting fully dressed, Hanzo takes a healthy swig of his saké gourd before falling back onto the mattress of the hotel bed. He lets out a frustrated sigh as he rubs at his eyes and combs his fingers through his loose hair. He is high-strung, on his third day with next to no sleep.

He knows he is being followed. He cannot prove that it is _him_ , but his gut tells him it is, and his gut feeling is never wrong. He managed to chow down some stew in a café a bit earlier, before carefully making his trek to a hotel at the opposite side of the city, hoping to shake whoever it is that is following him.  
One thing is for sure; it’s no amateur. It might be a well-trained assassin, he is still a Shimada after all. It might be a talented thief, just waiting for their chance to pounce. It could be an Overwatch agent. He is still not an official member, only doing the odd mission here and there, and they’re not quick to trust.  
None of the options seems like a surefire bet. Instead it is the unbidden image of a tall, dark man materializing in his mind, weapon glittering in golds and titanium, a velvety voice, and a scorching hot hand on his hip.  
Hanzo groans and rolls over, burying his face in the soft pillows. The memory of their last meeting still churns around in his head.

Akande Ogundimu, also known as Doomfist: The Successor. Much like him, heir to an empire now in ruins. Much unlike him, Talon agent working tirelessly to change the world to fit into their own grand plans.  
Hanzo scoffs, a stinging feeling settling deep inside him. Doomfist had achieved much in his brief time outside of prison. What had Hanzo himself achieved over the years on his journey?  
He had found Genji again, or well, Genji had found him. He had tried to redeem himself for Genji’s sake, wanting to be seen as an asset in his life and to the organization that is Overwatch.  
He doesn’t blame anyone for not trusting him. He can feel their unnerved looks whenever he is present amongst them. How they don’t really go out of their way to talk to him. Of course they all _know_. There’s especially one in their midst that Hanzo is positive wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet in his head should they ever find themselves alone together. He snorts audibly, angry lines forming on his face as he thinks of Jesse McCree, with his ridiculous cowboy attire. Heavy spurs jangling and giving away their position from a mile away. His loud gun, even _louder_ mouth, grating accent, stupid smile-  
His angry expression falters as he thinks of the man’s smile, or more precisely, how the man’s smile is seemingly the brightest thing in the world- when he is looking at _Genji_.  
Being someone that most agents at the base just choose to ignore pays off in the way that you’re free to watch everyone closely. Hanzo is positive _he_ probably knows more about certain people in Overwatch than some of their actual comrades do.  
How the resident doctor, Angela Ziegler, takes her morning tea at precisely 06:15, outside in the little make-shift garden. How the gorilla, Winston, prefers bananas over peanut butter when no one is looking.  
That Lena Oxton has a girlfriend off base. That Ana Amari and Reinhardt Wilhelm plan to retire together when all is said and done. Satya Vaswani is the one who keeps alphabetising the cereal boxes in the kitchen. Hana Song’s love for Doritos and Mountain Dew is a front she puts on for her viewers.

_Jesse McCree and Genji share secret glances and touches between themselves when they think no one is paying attention._

Had this been the old Genji, Hanzo would have scoffed and given the cowboy a week at most. Genji wasn’t known for being easy to tie down. Serious romantic prospects rarely got him on a second date.  
Jesse McCree was apparently different. Months had passed, and the looks between them were as intense as they’d been the first time Hanzo had actually paid attention to them.  
So Genji had finally found someone worth his precious time. Good for him. Even if Hanzo detested his other half. The feeling was apparently mutual, so why should he care, why should he even _try_?

Light footsteps puts him into alert mode and he springs up from the bed, shiv poised as he backs into a corner. Whoever it is has finally caught up to him, and they’re in possession of quite advanced tech. A slight disturbance in the air in the form of a rainbow flicker catches his eye and he leaps forward, slashing with his shiv, but it meets nothing. He grabs his ready-to-go pack and his Storm Bow, and bolts out the window and down on the pavement, rushing towards the nearest alley. He presses himself flat against the concrete wall and trains his eyes on his room’s window and the area directly below it. He sees the flicker again, it lands on the pavement as well and stops.  
A figure shimmers, and whatever tech they’re using disperses the illusion as a woman dressed in purples appear. Hanzo doesn’t recognize her, but it is safe to assume she is with Talon. He realises it a second too late as he tries to bolt but collides with a solid torso and he bumps back into the concrete wall. His blood runs cold as he slowly raises his eyes, not really needing to look to know who it is.

Doomfist.

Shiv. He’s got his shiv in his hand, he could possibly-

“As I said during our last meeting, I know about your blade. It would be wise of you to lay it down.”

The blade drops to the concrete with a clink as Hanzo obeys immediately, his mouth a stern line as he waits for laughter and ridicule for his weakness. It’s embarrassing. Caught twice by Doomfist.

“You are a difficult man to get hold of, Hanzo Shimada.” Doomfist says instead. Hanzo stares at him blankly.

“Please, consider it a compliment.” he continues smoothly, giving a signal with his hand. The woman from earlier appears and snatches the blade from beside Hanzo’s feet. She studies it with a bored expression, not really paying Hanzo any attention at all. For some reason that irritates him, and his irritation is apparently transparent on his face because Doomfist chuckles, and moves in to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Hanzo’s ear.

“Are you ready, to give me what I _want_ from you?”

In another life, another reality, another universe, maybe Hanzo wouldn’t have given it a second thought. If he is perfectly honest with himself he would have immediately given in to this man, given him what he wanted and _then some_. But he is a Shimada, an heir, a warrior who bows to no one. Honor is everything.

“I still sense some hesitation coming from you, Hanzo.” Doomfist says calmly. To Hanzo’s surprise, the man _turns his back_ to him, his hands linked loosely together.

“You see, Hanzo, we are all a part of a grand plan. Talon seeks to change the world, in a scope you cannot even begin to imagine. We both know you are deserving of an empire, be it your family’s empire, or one you’ve made with your own hands, built up from scratch. I want you to achieve this, I want you to accomplish grand things together with us. What can Overwatch offer you, that we cannot?”

Hanzo is a prideful individual, but even he has to admit that Doomfist’s words aren’t far-fetched. Overwatch offers him _nothing_. They have his brother, who is seemingly content staying there. Genji doesn’t really need Hanzo. He never has...  
He sucks in a breath as a sort of realisation dawns upon him. He grits his teeth and looks away. Doomfist turns around again. Good, he shouldn’t show Hanzo this level of trust.

“I see great potential in you, Hanzo Shimada.” Doomfist says, holding out his hand to the woman accompanying him. She hands over Hanzo’s shiv, a curious look flickering in her eyes. Doomfist flips it over so that he holds the blade itself, extending the handle to Hanzo who in turn raises a defiant eyebrow.

“It would be a shame to not see it fully unfold.”

After perhaps a minute of silence Hanzo takes his shiv back, all while keeping eye contact with Doomfist. The man’s mouth splits into a pleased grin.

“I seek not to disarm you. I seek to empower you. Perhaps the next time we meet, you will have a more solid resolve to show me.”

He’s left in the alley as Doomfist and the woman leaves, a myriad of conflicting emotions warring inside of him.

* * *

“So what do you plan to do, if he refuses you a third time?”

Sombra apparently suffers from a bout of schadenfreude. She thinks recruiting Hanzo Shimada is a lost cause. If she couldn’t do it, no one can. Akande is tempted to laugh out loud in front of her. None of his underlings knows the true value of taking their time. They’re accomplished, but they’re hot-headed and impatient, they value and rely on brute force in each their own way. He mentally corrects himself that Amélie is the one best equipped to be patient. But they’d all need to learn to tailor their ways of approach to each unique individual if Talon were to experience further growth.

“He won’t.” Akande tells her. She cocks an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t otherwise protest.

“Whatever you say, boss man.” she throws back, shrugging.

From his vantage point on the roof, Akande observes as Hanzo makes his way through the city, away from the hotel he’s been staying in.  
And while it looks like he is running away again, Akande is pleased as he takes note of the inner turmoil and indecision so easily displayed on the archer’s face.

“We’ll meet again very soon, Hanzo Shimada.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!  
> Please consider leaving kudos/comments if you enjoyed my writing<3
> 
> You can find me at http://8-bitcyborg.tumblr.com/ as well!


End file.
